Cassie's sigh was loud enough to hear outside of her room, but it didn't matter. The hut was empty. She had heard the MacRaes leave hours ago. Wherever they were going for the day, she wasn't invited, not even to watch.

She could have wasted the day with more sleep, but idleness wasn't something that suited her.    

Now that the MacRae brothers were reunited with their father, her work was done, and they had no further use for her. It would be best to say good-bye.

She would leave, she decided, but not today. . .

Chris's birthday was in two days, and she wanted to give him something to remember her by.   

Cassie dressed and left the hut. After finding a suitable stick, she chose a sunny spot in the jungle. She worked continuously for many hours, and whenever she felt sad or lonely, she would break the silence with a song.   

Will your strong embrace

mend my. . .

She paused when she heard a twig snap. "Is someone there?"

No one answered.

Her first thought was that someone was sneaking up on her, and only one name came to mind. "Joe, is that you?" She wasn't going to let him scare her. But, say, it wasn't him. Then she'd have a reason to be afraid.

After a bit of rustling, Chris pushed through the grass. "Good guess, but no. It's just me."

"Oh," Cassie said as she fumbled to hide what she was doing.

She also turned her head away from him because she didn't want him to see the layers of embarrassment piling up on her cheeks. The last and heaviest shade of red was hot enough to feel and was a result of the dream. Even hours later, she remembered every detail . . . the golden hue of the baby's curls in the yellow light, the scent of the fire that seemed to cling to everything, the feel of the clothing, the blankets, Chris's bare skin, and his touch—heated, determined, loving.    

"You don't have to stop singing. You sound . . . nice."

"You were listening?" she groaned.

"Briefly, yes. Was I not supposed to?"

His grin made her shrug and squirm.

"So what brings you here, Chris? I didn't expect to see you until tonight," she tersely stated. She sounded angry again and that wasn't her intention. Her frustration wasn't easy to contain these days and regardless of the source—and there were many—it was all expressed in a similar tone. But it was unlikely he could pick up on the subtle differences. It was all "anger" to him.

"I went to the hut for a bandage." He held up his right hand to reveal patches where the skin had been rubbed away. "And then I followed the sound of your voice."

The sight of his wounds replaced all of Cassie's uneasiness with concern. "That looks painful."

"It is, but someone I know urged me to 'exhibit a hint of discipline' and not be 'so distractible.' So, I've been practicing with blisters, apparently for a while."

He analyzed his palm and winced as he flexed it. Then, flourishing the bandage, he sat down on a stone near her and attempted to wrap his right hand with his left. He struggled, though, to keep everything tight and together. As he was wrapping his palm, a strip by his wrist dangled loose. He tried to correct the flaw but ended up unwrapping the bandage all the way.

She came over to him and lightly took his hand. "Here. Let me help. I insist." After a minute or so, keeping her eyes on the bandage as she re-wrapped it, she said, "I'm sorry. I said many things that I shouldn't have yesterday. And I wasn't referring specifically to you."

Chris propped his hand up on his knee. "No, you were right. Everything you said was true. I was distracted yesterday. I let Kale get to me. So, I'm the one who should apologize. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

She worked the cloth around his wrist and carefully across his injured palm. "Your apology is enough and is much appreciated. You have no obligation to do anything beyond that."

"We've been running in fear for our lives ever since we met. Maybe we could do something . . . fun for a change. Joe and I will take a day off and . . . and. . ."

Cassie could almost see what he saw: the lagoon, Honolulu, the ocean. She didn't know for sure, but she almost felt as if her thoughts and Chris's were in tune somehow. It sometimes happened when it was quiet and she was close to him . . . and when she was dreaming.

His mind zoomed in. The visual clutter, the erratic noise, went dark and silent, and then she could hear a high-pitched ring. "We can go to that marketplace my father mentioned. We'll make a day of it!"

She had to silence her mind before she could answer and tried to act natural, say what she was supposed to say. "That would be nice."

Cassie tied the bandage in a tight knot below his knuckles.

He opened and closed his fist a few times and twisted his wrist. "Remind you of something?"

Her eyes briefly met his and then they dropped back to his hand. "The first time we met."

"One of the most life-altering days I've ever had," Chris said with a sigh.

"I would have to agree," Cassie said.

"Yeah, and I bet you regret getting involved."

"Untrue. I have many regrets, but that isn't one of them." Their eyes met again. When she felt herself blush, she looked down and caught a glimpse of peeling skin on his left hand. She lifted it and uncurled his fingers. "This hand is on the brink of destruction as well. Have you been training with both hands?"

"Why use one sword when you can master the use of two?" His half smile told her he was trying to be funny, not arrogant.

"I don't know. You tell me."  

"I'll be able to 'conquer the universe' in half the time, obviously," he said.

"I believe you're mocking me."

He was quoting another piece of her rant. "Never," he replied, an eyebrow lifted. 

Cassie tried to maintain a serious expression, but the harder she tried, the more she smiled.

And he shifted in his seat, about to get up. "Since we're on good terms again, can I make a request?"

"Anything."

"Will you sing your song for me? It was hard to hear the words, but the melody was . . . haunting. And I haven't heard any good music since . . . adolescence, truly, so. . ."

Cassie had never sung for an audience before and could already feel her throat going dry at the thought. But she had just told Chris she'd do anything he asked, and she'd meant it.

She wandered away from him and for the sake of her nerves, turned at an angle to face the scenery. After a shaky gulp and a deep breath, she began her song.  

Will your strong embrace

mend my weary soul?

Can it shelter me

from eternal cold?

Love's emerging as a bud

craving kiss of light.

And who shall guard that fragile bloom

if plucked by winter's bite?

Blindly I will carry on,

not living but enduring.

Though colder, wiser than before,

my hope is everlasting.

Good-bye until the day

when flesh is warm no longer.

Meet me on the other side,

where love will make us stronger.

When she turned around, he was on his feet, cautiously studying her.

"That really is your song, isn't it?"

"Yes." She had composed it, words and melody. "Did you like it?" she asked, though she couldn't look at him. Realizing their time together was about to end, she was more skittish than ever.

What exactly will good-bye entail?        

"It was just what I needed to get through the day. Thank you." He glanced back at the clearing in the grass and said, "I should get going."

She brought her head up. "So soon?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice darkening. "I have a rematch with Kale. We've called it truce . . . for now. But everyone is still watching, expecting me to mess up somehow. And this time it won't happen."

"Oh, all right. You should go, then."

She gave him a weak smile. As he stepped closer, he rubbed his knuckles across her cheek.

She was too shocked to blink her wide eyes. But she didn't flinch. For once, her reflexes didn't betray her.

"You should stay out of the sun," was his rationale.

"Why? I like the sun."

"And it likes you . . . too much." He moved his hand from her face to her bare shoulder, which had turned pink, and lightly pressed his thumb down as he stroked it. "That's going to hurt later."

"It is?"

He nodded and brushed a loose strand of hair off her shoulder.

"I'll stay out of the sun, then, if you insist," she said.

"I do. And please be careful out here." Chris peered over the shrubs, tall grass, vines, and tree limbs. There were tiny, colorful birds chirping a merry tune, but he didn't seem to appreciate any creature that could fly. "If anything ever happened to you, I would. . ."

"Don't worry, Chris. I'll return to the hut soon."

"Good." He tapped her underneath the chin and smiled again. "I'll see you later."

She watched him disappear, but in her thoughts, he was omnipresent, more than ever. 

Cassie sat back down in a shady spot this time and found the piece of sandstone she had been using earlier. She continued smoothing down the wood into a shape she hoped would be recognizable. But the work was more taxing than before. She was distracted. She had accused the fairy-males of the inclination, and yet she was the worst offender.              

Chris had given her much to think about and maybe even a reason to stay in Hawaii . . . just a little longer.

⭐️⭐️⭐️